


Two lone rain drops, clashing together

by tennisuhs



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Back Together, I can't tag shit, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Smut, Past Relationship(s), i guess?, there's a little fight scene but nothing big
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 04:16:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20039788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tennisuhs/pseuds/tennisuhs
Summary: Wonho and Hyungwon had the perfect meet cute. Perfect relationship, perfect friends. Really, everything was idillic about them. Even their break up, since it had been on good terms. But, that didn't stop them from having a grand fall out and even more catastrophic post-break up angst. h





	Two lone rain drops, clashing together

“I don’t do feelings.” 

One impactful laughter. That’s how Wonho would describe the sound that Minhyuk let out as a reaction to his words. A single, very loud, sound that made the rest of the dog walkers of the park turn. 

“Say that again, maybe I’ll believe you next time.” He said, a smug grin on his face and eyes on the dog.

“I can become a maneater, just like you.” Wonho proceeded; his left brain completely serious, his right brain thinking about ferret videos. “If you could just teach me.” 

“Those days are behind me, young padawan.” Before Wonho could complain about their age difference, Minhyuk continued. “You don’t know how to not do feelings, Shin Wonho.”

The sun was slowly burning hotter, what had started as a mere reminder of daytime was now starting to show its rage. Good thing Wonho had changed and accommodated his jogging time to the newborn summer. And, even if it killed him to admit it, the new schedule made him bump into his friend every day. Which was nice. Comforting actually. 

“Well-”

“No, I’m not done.” Minhyuk cleared his throat after tying the poo bag. “You do feelings. You only know how to do feelings. You do feelings so hard, Shin Wonho, that your heart goes ‘holy fuck, wait am I supposed to feel this much?’. You are a Pisces, for crying out loud, I don’t think you know what not-doing-feelings even is.”

Wonho pried himself free from the arm Minhyuk had wrapped around his shoulder, clearly annoyed, and huffed a small. “Okay, shit, I get it.”

Damned be the moment he thought that talking about his Tinder endeavours with his friend was a good idea. Sure enough, Minhyuk was the best candidate to talk about this stuff ever since Kihyun seemed so against such apps. Jooheon asked too many questions and Changkyun, bless his heart, had had bad experiences with it.

Wonho didn’t even want to begin with Hyunwoo. 

It was premeditated. Of course it was. The universe had a plan and, as far as Wonho could tell, it basically entailed fucking him over. 

So when a very fluffy, pearl grey cloud covered the sun and Minhyuk shook his bangs away, Wonho still couldn’t comprehend what that did to help his vision. For one, his friend had now a middle part and for the other part, his hair came back to its place every time. 

However, what was the most tedious thing about the gesture is that it indicated a change of tone. Of pace. A baton of sorts. Adagio to Moderato to Allegre. Minhyuk was a new age director, spontaneous and unpredictable. Only after holding his gaze did Wonho let his shoulders slunk. Serious time. Serious Minhyuk isn’t always the best Minhyuk. 

“If you really think you are ready, let me help. Let us help.” He put emphasis on the second pronoun, hand on his chest. “We love you, man. And we know it is hard to get over your ex.”

“I’ll stop you right there, chief.” The gate of the dog park winked at them from behind the bushes, the day was about to begin. “Who said I’m not over Hyungwon. See? I can even say his name with my chest cramping.”

Liar. 

But what Minhyuk, and the rest of the group, didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

Besides, Wonho concluded, maybe it was a matter of washing it away with new water. After awhile, the bath turns dirty, no matter how many soaps and bath bombs, it’s time to stand up and shower it all off and get out, put on moisturiser and a comfy set of pajamas. 

It was time for a new set of pajamas. Wonho’s fingertips could only get so wrinkly.

“Okay, then don’t rush it.” Minhyuk nodded, leash around his knuckles secure at the foresight of a new dog. “You’ve been single before, and if you are bored, you have us!”

The fondness in Minhyuk’s eyes was just as vivid as petals in the spring, and like a bumble bee, Wonho dived head first. Pinching his friend’s cheeks had started as a teasing thing, a drunk thing, and now a very intimate moment between two that not even themselves could describe.

“Thanks, Minnie.” 

“Alright, that’s enough serious talk!” Minhyuk started skipping his way towards the gate, successfully avoiding his dog getting tangled with a chihuahua's leash. “Next time you better tell me about your dick adventures, otherwise I’m not listening.”

Wonho gave him a salute, and before Minhyuk got any further, he yelled, “Remember tomorrow is movie night at my place!”

It would never stop being funny how Minhyuk had to physically catch air to yell back, just that much louder as a response.

“I’ll bring the tequila!”

  
  
  


Let’s get one thing clear: Wonho could be alone. Both in the romantic and physical sense. Being an only child trained him to face long car rides in silence, then with headphones stuffed deep into his ears, and then behind the wheel carpooling by himself. It trained him to set up the table with three pairs of silverware with two hands without breaking, to the point where the times they had guests, his entire system of setting up the table was completely compromised. It trained him in having his own space, silence and quiet. However, he wasn’t selfish, or egocentric. Instead, he had a tremendous fear of ending up alone.

But that’s another story for another time.

Now, Wonho had been single. For a long time. And it had been fine. He wasn’t the type to fall for someone with a snap of a finger, or love at first sight. No, he could find someone interesting at first sight. However, he was very bad at making moves, and flirting. Maybe that was part of the problem. 

Until Hyungwon came in.

That is definitely another story for another time. 

As he was getting ready to jump out of the subway, Wonho pondered over Minhyuk’s words: it wasn’t a bad time to be alone again, find himself, his zen point, and all that bullshit.

Sighing, the doors slid open, he gripped his suitcase tighter and nodded to himself. 

Wonho had been born to be alone, after all.

  
  
  


“How’s my Wanda baby doing? And my other Wanda? Oh hi Wanda three!”

“Minhyuk, Wanda died, like, three years ago.” Wonho shook his head as he settled the popcorn on the coffee table. “I don’t even have a goldfish anymore.” 

“I just like to remember her, okay?” Minhyuk said fogging up the aquarium glass. “You can all try but you’ll never be as good as the Original Wanda.” The threat was left in a loud whisper since the golden haired couldn’t speak softly for his own sake.

Wonho let out a small laugh as he dropped himself on the couch, Hyunwoo instantly placing an arm around his shoulders. “So, how was your day, Wonho?” 

Ah, the always caring Son Hyunwoo. There was a theory, or there should have been a theory, that one member of the friend group is actually what keeps said group together. The glue. The pillar. The parent. But also the craziest motherfucker out of them all. That was Son Hyunwoo. 

Perhaps was his pillowy pecks, or his strong fluffy biceps, or his inviting smile. Whatever it was, it drew people in. It had driven all of them in, and like a mother duckling, wherever Hyunwoo went, so did the rest.

“Cool, actually, finished that piece I’ve been working for days.” Wonho said, cheek squished on Hyunwoo’s shoulders. “Wanna see? I took a pic.”

“Dick pics?” Minhyuk asked through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Jewelry pics.” clarified Hyunwoo.

“You know exactly what to say to rile me up.” 

“Gross.” That was Wonho, currently swiping through his gallery until he found the very wanted pictures.

Minhyuk let out a gasp, yanking the phone away from its owner and zooming in the picture of the necklace.

“Hyunwoo, if you had ever loved me for a fraction of your life, propose to me with this.” 

“I thought you wanted a ring?” Hyunwoo tilted his head, clearly playing his own game. 

“No, I wanted a golden laurel crown, but since that ain’t happening, I want this.” He pointed at the red crystals in each golden leaf. 

The necklace had to give the illusion of autumn leaves falling to their demise. Nothing holding them, even though Wonho had spent countless hours fusing the small golden strings together. At some point he even went cross eyed. 

It wasn’t really the most original design, but his mentor had almost a fanatic faith in his skills, and Wonho would never hesitate to take that to his advantage. 

“I could make a ring version of it for whenever you two decide to tie the knot.” Wonho simply said as his phone returned to his hands, eyes focused on setting it on silence and lock it.

If he had been looking at his friends though, he would have seen the changing array of expressions crossing their faces. Like a very rapid string of fireworks. 

Hyunwoo settled with utter surprise. Minhyuk was beaming.

“What?” Hyunwoo sounded breathless. 

“I’m serious.” 

Wonho was. He had been actually sketching out some ideas for them in the silence of his studio. Knowing his friends cracked under pressure, and besides, it was his decision to make. 

“We can talk about this another time.” Wonho said, trying to calm whatever war was happening inside their heads. “Let’s just watch Star Wars, okay?”

The movie was silent, which was an uncommon occurrence since it was science fiction. Normally, Hyunwoo, part of a top researcher team in the area of nanotechnology, would comment on the artefacts. No movie was left without questioning its basis, logic, mechanics and even laws.

Sometimes it would lead to very interesting arguments. Other times, Minhyuk became very annoyed and asked out loud how could he ever fall for a science major. 

Not that night, though.

Amazing fuel for Wonho’s anxiety.

Countless times, he found himself gaping, like Ruby the platies, trying to find the right words to either apologize for his forwardness, or to ask if everything was okay. Not even his half emptied glass of Tequila helped.

He was sure then about his mortality and his nearing thirties, for he found himself alarmed at the amount of liquor he had consumed.

“Let’s go for drinks tomorrow.” He proposed instead while the couple was getting ready to leave. And, trying to grip the remaining youth he still had with an iron grip against his chest.

His friends might be thinking about marriage, but Wonho was still young.

“Sure.” Minhyuk said with a small smile.

His friends were the hugging type. And the cuddling type. Very touchy overall type. To the point where Wonho had learned, and put into practice the different types of affection they had demonstrated to him.

However, those hugs were different.

They were tight, but in a way that didn’t construct his windpipe, or made him feel sweaty.

Warm like the sun, yet peaceful like a summer stream. Both Minhyuk and Hyunwoo were trying to tell him something, but Wonho had been born to be alone and left alone. He still had a long way to go to understand the language of the hugs.

So he tried his best to hug back. To give the best smile he could muster and with them good night.

  
  
  


They had multiple inside jokes. A totally normal outcome from a five year old friendship, and later, relationship. Ranging from songs, to one liners, to even just facial expressions, they had so many memories to bring back in the most random times, that Wonho didn’t even stop to count them.

However, in the stomach of those very hungry nights, when the darkness just wants to eat him alive, starting from his breathing and ending with his sanity; Wonho starts to count. And recall.

“Would you like that to go or to eat here?” It happened once when Wonho was shitfaced, and the group decided to end the night by tormenting a McDonalds.

Hyungwon had been fresh as a rose by then, and swore to never live down the moment when Wonho replied to that question with a “To eat you out.” The poor cashier’s face went beyond traumatized.

That question had been used in multiple scenarios since. 

But its importance laid when Hyungwon said it so quietly, so close to his ear that the air around his tongue was bathed in rose gold. White gold when it reached Wonho’s skin, making it stand sensitive to the other’s touch.

As if he was made of levels, joysticks, buttons and lights, Hyungwon held the instruction kit in his hand, while the other held him tight against his chest. 

So when Wonho asked for cuddles, whine above the whisper tangled with the sheets, Hyungwon would ask back, arms around him. 

“To eat me alive.” Wonho said out loud in the middle of his lonely room.

Dim light coming from this charging phone and alarm clock, currently blinking an offending three on the far left. 

He was over Hyungwon.

He was.

In the times of the day where the sun was the highest, and the memories hissed at the light.

Wonho would be fine. 

He was born to be alone.

  
  
  
  


“Don’t freak out.” Minhyuk begun before his butt could even reach the chair. 

“And freaking out program engaged in three, two…” Kihyun started the count down with a bored expression.

Wonho had to agree: whenever their friend started his sentences with such a tone, it never was to deliver a calm and kind message. Bracing for impact was the wisest choice. 

“This isn’t about you.” 

The daggers in Minhyuk’s voice could have made any grown man flinch. But Kihyun had been his roommate for six whole years, and Wonho was afraid to even ask what happened to make Kihyun so immune to their friend’s shenanigans.

But Wonho wasn’t made of steel, a nice material to be actually, especially when polished. So, he did flinch when Minhyuk turned to him. Just slightly. Not enough for his friend to pick on him after.

“Guess who is coming back to Seoul tomorrow.”

“By your expression, I’d say is the antichrist.” Kihyun replied tapping away on his phone.

After a fake laugh Minhyuk rolled his eyes. “You are so funny.” The king of sarcasm deadpanned before focusing on Wonho again. “Guess.”

“I don’t know.” Wonho simply shrugged, trying to gauge the weight of the situation.

“Hyungwon.”

There’s only so much you can bend a metal. Some aren’t even malleable. The level to which you can force such material to go the way one wants is limited. Wonho tried to be the perfect metal: to break his back and bend like grass in the wind. To let everything flow past him without much care.

He tried.

He tried to take shelter in the highest point of the day, where the fear of missing Hyungwon would hiss at the light.

He tried.

“So?” How his voice could shake with just a syllable, he still wasn’t sure.

Three seconds passed.

They felt like all eternity

“I have to go.”

None of his friends stopped him when he dragged the chair as far away to the table as he could and left.

No one tried to communicate with him as he jogged around the street to get home fast. No one knocked on his door as he threw himself on the couch and remained there as the hours ticked by. No one but the only person Wonho wanted to talk to the least.

**hyungwon: ** hey! I don’t know if Jooheon told you but I’m coming back to Seoul! Let’s hang out sometime.

Wonho will say he cracked his phone on the gym, even if he had a buffy witness to testify against him. He will say it dropped when he was jogging, then. Wonho was willing to make up any and every excuse to avoid admitting he threw his phone at the sight of Hyungwon’s name.

He was supposed to be doing fine.

He was supposed to have been born to be alone.

  
  
  


“Maybe it’s fate.”

“Hyunwoo, we are not having this conversation.” 

Wonho had his reasons for that: the first one because they were at the gym, specifically on the elliptic and he felt like his ribcage was about to implode at any second. Secondly, because if breathing was a problem then, imagine crying while losing breath. No bueno. And third of all, did he mention they were at a goddamn gym?

“You believe in the healing stones and their energy or whatever, why not fate?” Hyunwoo took a long swing of his water bottle, the plastic cracking on each gulp. And Wonho would be impressed if he wasn’t worried that his friend was almost waterboarding himself.

“Because, fate is cruel. It worked for you and Minhyuk. Not for me.” Wonho panted. “Its sole purpose is to fuck me over, as we have seen multiple times. The stones protect me.”

“What do you mean multiple times?” The fucker was talking like they were strolling down the street. And that settled it for Wonho: his friend was a fucking greek God.

“Why put Hyungwon in my life only to take him away from me? Why make me suffer through a very nice, healthy, amazing relationship of two years if he was only going to leave? Why make me believe it was the right time to move on, only to bring Hyungwon back? Why make shit so goddamn difficult? Fuck!”

Wonho slammed the red button, the machine slowly reducing its rhythm but there was no one riding it, as Wonho had jumped out of it. His face stuffed into his own towel as he tried to breathe, and in retrospective, it does sound counterproductive, but at the time Wonho just wanted to calm down.

“Let’s take a break.” Hyunwoo’s hands were as sweet as his voice, a little window where Wonho could stick his head out and sigh.

  
  
  


“Hoseok.”

“No.” Wonho replied rather harshly, the plastic bottle popping as he squished it in his hand. “I don’t want to talk about it. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“That’s not what it like seemed back there.” Hyunwoo pointed at the door behind them, an emergency door. 

Those stairs sure had a lot of stories to tell, Wonho could only imagine how many smoke breaks happened in that small opening, how many rushed phone calls, and who knows what more. He wouldn’t be the one to deny he’d been blown in an alleyway like the one standing a few floors below.

Wondering about the space was just a method of stalling, Wonoh knew. Hyunwoo knew too, for he didn’t press on the matter.

“I didn’t mean to offend you, with the crystal stuff.” He simply said, back against the brick wall.

“No offence taken.” Wonho joined him, arms bumping with a sigh. “It’s just happening so fast, I guess. Everything was going alright, but the second I start thinking about him again, he decides to show up.” He shrugged the last part.

Hyunwoo nodded, and Wonho hoped he really understood. He had no one but. 

“Are you scared?” 

Now, not to be overdramatic here, but if Hyunwoo hadn’t been like a brother to Wonho, he could have shivered at the words. Shuddered as the realisation of how high up they were hit. Hyunwoo with his almost six feet height and his arms that could literally bend steel, asking if Wonho was scared. 

“Are you going to throw me off the stairs?”

“What?”

It was the pure bafflement in Hyunwoo’s voice that did it. Wonho giggled, hand covering his mouth as he eyed the other, who went through all stages of grief and regret for ever taking Wonho seriously.

“I’m fine, Hyunwoo, just a little on edge.”

“Because you are scared.” Hyunwoo turned to face Wonho, arms crossed. “Because you are terrified that he’ll hurt you again.”

“Ah, shit.” Wonho’s head dropped, hanging low as it had been cut and was hanging on a thread by his neck. After pacing back and forth on the platform, Wonho finally turned to look up at the other. “Do you think he is going to?”

Ridicule. As if he could be stepped on and crushed, Wonho felt miniscule as he asked, admittedly unable to make sense of anything with a mind that had been panicking for the last couple of days. 

“He came back.” Hyunwoo simply replied, hand on the handle of the door. “That to me seems more of a second chance than him wanting to stick a finger in the wound.”

“Man, Minhyuk rubbed off on you, huh?” Wonho teased, following his friend inside.

“The curse of dating a literature graduate.” Hyunwoo shrugged. 

As their second and final hour on the gym came around, Wonho let the silence fall between them, a tender blanket covering both their forms as they bent to pick up dumbbells. On normal days, that silence was camaraderie, was a respectful space when their bodies were at its peak of usage and their minds focusing on not dropping pounds of weight on their own feet. 

But silence was Wonho’s worst enemy, mighty sharp sword seated and ready to pierce Wonho at its will. Silence brought back the tears and sore eyes, the yearning and missing of the first months. The dull ache of the weeks after and the pent up frustration for a situation he couldn’t remedy. Silence brought the loss of hope of the last few months, when radio silent had taken over their communication, white noise where they use to be bickering and sweet words. 

Silence brought back a fluttery feeling that made his eye twitch: his heart demanding said feeling, his body rejecting it.

Second chances don’t happen. They were never in Wonho’s book. Romance wasn’t supposed to be a boxing match, it wasn’t supposed to have rounds, each hurting more and more. Until one gets knocked out. 

Second chances weren’t in Wonho’s plans.

Neither was Hyungwon. 

But the stars had shone in his eyes that one night, and Wonho deep down knew, he was a goner.

  
  
  


The call came buzzing like the alcohol in Wonho’s veins. 

Phone moving on top of the table, next to where his head was resting. 

Drinking alone was a very bad coping mechanism, but he had yet to find one that wouldn’t harm him in the long or short run. So sue him, soju was his best friend then. The only one who agreed and shared his bitterness and anger. It burned his tongue like ice, and it was nice. It was nice to feel like he was leaving the world for a while.

Until the goddamn call.

He picked up against his better judgement, held captive by the liquor.

“‘Sup.”

“Wonho?”

Well,  _ fuck _ .

“Why are you calling me?” he wanted to sound more furious, irritated. But the hiccup was unavoidable. 

“You didn’t answer my text, so I just wanted to make sure you didn't change your phone number.” Some ruffling and shuffling from the other side, made clear that Hyungwon was in bed.

Wonho hated that he could recognize that. He could describe Hyungwon even when blind.

“If that’s it, I’m hanging up.”

“Wait, why?” Hyungwon asked, voice cracking in that way that it always had. “Are you mad at me.”

“I don’t owe you any explanation.” Even in his intoxicated state, Wonho was right. He didn’t have to tell Hyungwon shit anymore. They weren’t dating, they weren’t even friends.

Friends don’t go to work on the other side of the world and stay mute during those years. Okay, sure Hyungwon sent him happy birthday texts, and christmas mails. But that’s what people do to their work colleagues. Not to their exes with whom they ended up on good terms.

He was being unfair. There was a bad taste in his mouth as he tried to justify his irritation. More alcohol would make it go away, Wonho thought as he chugged down the rest of his third bottle. Yes, everything Hyungwon had ever done, was doing or would do, became infuriating. For the sole reason that he was Hyungwon.

And if there was a part of Wonho that disagreed, he couldn't hear it, too focused on ignoring the half sigh half groan Hyungwon let out on the other side. The fucker. 

The absolute fucker. 

“What have I done to make you so mad?”

A list. A whole list popped up in his head at the question. However, just like in dreams, the writing was legible but it didn’t make any sense. Captcha like letters holding hands in a manner that didn’t seem ordered. 

The best shot Wonho had, regardless, to shut the other off.

He opened his mouth.

“Hold on, I have to throw up.”

Wonho would have gladly kept their conversation soon-to-become argument and then full on yelling, if it wasn’t because Hyungwon hung up at the sound of his guts being poured against the toilet.

And thank goodness he did, because Wonho passed out next to the bathtub right after.

-

Not surprising.

If Hyungwon had to go over everything he knew about Wonho, which was a lot. Not that he would hide that fact. He and Wonho were close. Had been close. So much so that Hyungwon was three months away from asking to live together. Maybe a couple of years away from getting down on one knee. 

Life got in the way, but Hyungwon knew Wonho.

And he knew what he does well: focus. Brick solid. Wonho could procrastinate until the last minute, but once he was onto something, not even a hurricane would be able to tear his attention away from it. Hyungwon had tried. To no avail.

So, it was only comprehensible that Wonho was able to hold grudges just as well.

It was no surprise, therefore, that whatever Hyungwon did to Wonho, seemed such a huge crime in his eyes. 

Then is when Hyungwon had to play his game. There was just no option to ask, even if he ingeniously tried. That was the Wonho way: he had to figure it out.

“He hung up on you?” 

“I did.” Hyungwon sighed, spoon toying with his oatmeal. “But then he started throwing up and I just knew he was going to fall asleep next.”

“Was he drunk?” Jooheon’s eyebrows shot upwards, even though it wasn’t such a surprising event, Hyungwon appreciated the younger’s involvement.

“And pissed.” Hyungwon added. “Super pissed.”

“At you? Why.”

“That, I would like to know too.”

Another sigh. He hated those, yet his body had two levers: sigh or yawn at awkward situations. It had taken some adjusting to clarify in which scenario the latter would actually work. 

This wasn’t the best scenario Hyungwon had hoped for. It would have been way easier if Wonho would just have been waiting behind the door for him, jumped on his arms, probably killing Hyungwon instantly judging by how much buffier he had become in the last few years; and resume their happy amazing relationship.

Now it sounded delusional. 

Besides, Hyungwon hadn’t been the only one radio silent for months. Wonho didn’t even attempt to reach out either. So, from this point of view, he could pay Wonho back with the same coin, play the same game.

If only he was half as mad as Wonho seemed, he would sulk and throw a tantrum.

But he wasn’t. 

He just wanted Wonho back.

And that was delusional too.

  
  


It had been easy to settle on his new workplace. The familiarity of the language, customs and overall setting made it smoother than he would have ever imagined. Normally, there are always bumps on the road the first days: either workload that seem never ending, or distractions in the form of introductions that never ended.

However, Hyungwon found himself avoiding both of those. Glasses high on the nose of his bridge and fingers quickly adjusting to the old newfound keyboard.

“Coffee break.” the intern announced softly, leaving a paper mug on top of Hyungwon’s desk, making sure it didn’t disturb.

“That’s nice of you.” Hyungwon said turning to the younger, eyes focusing on the name on his label. “Thank you, Jungwoo.”

The boy bowed and left as fast as he had arrived. Even though the coffee lacked a couple of sugars, Hyungwon drank as he checked his phone.

**minhyuk:** bbq tonight? for old time’s sake

**hyungwon:** i don’t think i’ll be welcomed

**minhyuk:** the fuck makes you think that?

**hyungwon:** argued with wonho last sunday

**minhyuk:** you literally just landed on the peninsula? how the fuck did you manage to piss him off?

**hyungwon:** how is it my fault? i didn’t do shit

**hyungwon:** you know what? forget it. have fun.

And that was that.

Or so he thought.

Because clocking out hour ticked in, Hyungwon quickly throwing his blazer on his shoulder and waving his coworkers off, almost skipping his way downstairs when he saw it. 

Them.

Standing on the other side of the front glass door, stood the three shortest guys of the friend group Hyungwon would hang out with. And if anything he had learned after all these years together and the amount of shenanigans he found himself involved in, was that those three together without supervision were a menace.

Not only to Hyungwon or the neighborhood.

But humanity too.

There was no just rest easy when Kihyun, Changkyun and Minhyuk came around to do something together. Like wearing black suits and dark tinted sunglasses at five in the afternoon, arms crossed as if they were about to start filming a bad rendition of Man In Black. That was the most unnerving thing: the quietness, the complete poker face.

“Get the fuck in loser, we're going to eat.” Kihyun spoke, trying to sound intimidating.

Now, it could be argued that made things even funnier. But again, after so much time, one just knows. And that tone was no fun tone. That tone was  _ this is how we are going to do it and my shoe runs faster than your legs in case you disagree _ tone.

So, Hyungwon pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Why did I ever come back?”

“Because you missed us, dipshit.” Minhyuk replied, the actor himself capturing the whole stance of a bad guy. “Now get in the car, we have a table booked at seven.”

People were staring, that was the main reason why Hyungwon complied, since a fucked up part of himself would have liked to play that game for a little longer. Starting with calling out the insult, maybe using another one to his friend. 

Again, Hyungwon wasn’t fond of the unwanted looks.

“You guys are seriously going to be dressed like that for an outing?” Hyungwon all but asked while sitting in the back seat. 

Kihyun’s driving was impeccable, but there was some harshness to it. Enough gas on the turns to make Hyungwon’s nerves perk up. What if they were all ganging up on him? Perhaps as a revenge for breaking up with Wonho. Well, that sounded ridiculous. 

“It does not concern you.” The driver replied, looking at Hyungwon through the rare mirror.

“Changkyun, we literally talked yesterday, you are my only hope here.”

The boy sitting next to him visibly relaxed, looking to the three occupants of the vehicle before smiling softly. “He got me there.”

As groans and boos came from the driver and shotgun seat, Changkyun scooted closer, trying to give his friend a hug as best as their seatbelts allowed. 

“They were really going to keep this up all night?” Hyungwon asked as they parted.

“Plan was to.” Changkyun simply shrugged, hand brushing his own bangs. “But I do find the whole outfit thing too much.”

Looking at the other two, to whom the last part was aimed at, Changkyun toyed with his necktie, but only took it off when Minhyuk did with a sigh of defeat. 

“Oh fuck.” Kihyun said, slowing down. “We are already here, couldn’t you have kept it up until we got to the damn place?”

“Hey I tried, but he got me.” Changkyun replied crossing his arms.

And pouting.

Hyungwon missed this.

  
  


Stares. They have always been bad. 

Which was something to say when one had been modeling since the tender age of thirteen. Now, Hyungwon’s growing spurt came earlier than the rest, something to blame on his genes apparently. His voice deeper a few months too prematurely, casted while waiting for the subway on his way back from the aquarium.

He had hated it.

A mix between empathy for those poor animals, enclosured in a habitat made for them, swimming aimlessly for food. And also because of the stares. Everyone looking at each and every move of their fins, their tails. Look at the shark’s jaws, so pointy and dangerous, look at that sting ray; so cute.

Everyone murmuring.

Thank God the fishes never listened. They couldn’t.

However, Hyungwon could.

He had said yes for money reasons. It was no secret his family wasn’t doing great. 

“You are too young to worry about these things.” Said his mother, caressing his palm.

“Maybe you are finally going to pay back the investment you always have been.” Said his father on his second bottle of soju.

In school, reactions were mixed. But the general consensus was to take down the one that had become the difference.

Those classmates that never really noticed him, now having him on their mouths like bait. Smirks and jokes under their breaths, but loud enough to make Hyungwon shake as he took notes. 

Fame came disguised as prestige and recognition, when in reality fame was nothing more than “accidental” balls thrown in his face to see if he had any plastic surgery done. Make him trip on the stairs to break his legs before his five o’clock shoot.

Until college. 

No one fucking cares about you in college. 

By then, Hyungwon had already found refuge in small gears, in old cameras that needed aid and rare pieces. He remembered pointing at an old one, on a forgotten shelf at a set. They told Hyungwon that it was his if he wanted it. He had wanted it. 

Inexperienced hands toying with the lenses, with the shutter. 

Opening it up at the depths of the night, under a table light that burned his cornea, Hyungwon found out that the camera was missing something. Some key pieces that maybe had been snatched from its insides to serve another camera or purpose.

Deeming it impossible, Hyungwon desisted from repairing it. But other cameras found a better fate under his touch.

It was the summer after senior year of high school when Hyungwon decided it was time. His first camera deserved better. So, he went to an antique shop, no luck there. Then, another one. His luck only getting worse after each thrift store or vintage shop he’d come out of.

And then, he turned left. 

Found a jewelry shop instead. An old man with greenish veiny hands and a weird monocle in his eye, balding but with fuzzy white hair on the sides of his head. 

“Oh, hi, there son. Sorry I was too caught up with this.” He held up the clockwork in his hand. “Quite marvelous, is it not?”

Hyungwon nodded. “Looks very pretty.”

And it was. 

In his years of isolation and lonely cameras, Hyungwon found other pieces of tin and steel that needed derusting. Satisfaction folding his ribcage when the paint fit the old tone, the little robot having a new life. However, he could never consider himself an expert on repairing clockwork. Not yet.

“The things one can find at a garage sale.” The man’s voice sounded joyful in a satisfying way. Of someone who knew they did good and also knew they could keep doing it. Heroic in the most quotidian way. “But, how can I assist you, son?”

“Erm.” Hyungwon hesitated as he pulled out the camera. “This might me unusual but--”

“Well, what a precious little thing.” The clerk said holding up the object, like a mother would hold her baby. “Feels too light, does it have reel?”

“That’s the thing, I’m missing the pieces to hold it in place.” 

Taking the monocle from his right eye, the man looked at Hyungwon up and down. His expression completely still and serious as his pearly eyes scanned him. However, once their gazes met, he softened up. A sort of camaraderie and complicity taking over his stance. As if Hyungwon understood, he returned the smile.

“You’ve come to the right place.” The man said, stretching out his hand. “Shin Kiseon. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Chae Hyungwon.”

Hyungwon shook his hand, bowing before the man withdrew and guided him towards one of the fitting tables, supposedly meant for people to try on pieces. On his small way there, Hyungwon caught a glimpse of someone working in the back. Safety goggles covering the face of a seemingly younger man.

It wasn’t until half an hour later, when Hyungwon and Mr.Shin were discussing where to find each piece and how to treat the ones already in the camera, that the man presented himself. 

Hyungwon never believed in love at first sight. Or love as a whole.

But those gentle eyes, full cheeks, messy black hair and candy cane like voice made him think that, perhaps, it wasn’t a matter of faith. Rather fate.

Hyungwon hated people staring. 

Hated being looked at.

Yet he was a model.

Yet, he wanted that boy to look at him. 

  
  
  


Five years and a break up later, Wonho was looking at him. 

Straight up, almost without blinking. His head tilted downwards, his hands fumbling with his food on the plate, barely sparing it a glance. Only turning to pour himself some more water, maybe check his phone from time to time.

However, he always came back to check on his prey. And Hyungwon hated how much he liked it. How much he knew he didn’t deserve it, but his heart was willing to take anything Wonho was willing to give him. 

Hyungwon hated feeling this pathetic, but knew he was. 

“A whole goddamn cucumber.” Kihyun confirmed after being heavily doubted by Changkyun. “That’s what Dr. Moon said anyway.” 

“Not to kill the mood, but could we change the topic? We are eating.” Jooheon said, putting down his fork full of vegetables that he had every intention of eating before hearing the story.

“You guys asked for hospital gossip, I am breaking the privacy rules by telling, you ungrateful twats.” Kihyun growled before going back to his food.

“Then let’s switch to a story that doesn’t involve vegetable up people’s asses.” Hyunwoo agreed, looking at Hyungwon. “How’s your work? Everyone treating you nice?”

“Yeah, is anyone looking at you weird? Asking you to speak in english like a circus monkey?” Minhyuk asked, knife in hand. 

Hyungwon shook his head, giggles muffled by the food he was munching. “It’s fine. The intern is an angel, already learned my coffee order.” Hyungwon commented, recalling the time Jungwoo had scribbled it down his little notepad. What a joy. 

“Well, that’s good.” Minhyuk replied, lowering his knife. “What about your boss?”

“Well, I think I have two since I’m, like, the bridge between the American and the Korean headquarters.”

“Always good to have two people reprimand you.” Changkyun said, head twitching to his side as he clapped his tongue against the roof of his mouth. 

“Don’t worry, they are good.” Hyungwon patted the back of his head before shrugging. “I know what they expect from me, and I deliver.”

“Yeah because that sounds exactly like you.” 

The whole table halted into silence. Kihyun’s mouth open agape and his food slowly falling back into his plate from where they were hovering between his chopsticks. Hyungwon could see from the corner of his eye Jooheon bracing for impact.

Tension could be cut by a chainsaw, so strong and thick diamond felt like cotton. 

Because Hyungwon and Wonho never argued. Not in public, and not with this intensity. Wonho was never about straight undercuts: he was small jabs that ended up getting to Hyungwon. He was about petty arguments that finished with make up sex and lots of hugs and cuddles. 

Hyungwon couldn’t cuddle him there, or solve this the way he always had. So, the alternative is to fight back. 

“You never complained, though.” 

Fight back, see who lasts longer. A war of attrition.

“Guys.” Hyunwoo warned.

“Oh wait, of course you didn’t, because I exceeded your expectations.” Hyungwon finished. 

“I never complained because I knew you could never even fucking reach my expectations.” Wonho arched one eyebrow.

And if Hyungwon wasn’t super pissed at him right then and there, he would have admitted he looked appetizingly attractive. 

“Excuse me?” That was the weakest comeback, but the only one he could come up with, biting down on his cheek. 

“Excuse you.” Oh, the bastard was having fun. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Hyungwon’s hand became a fist on top of the table, but before Changkyun could hold it, he yanked it back, away from his reach.

“Guys-” Hyunwoo sounded exhausted, which made Hyungwon almost feel sorry, since they only had started. 

“What right do you have to be angry at me?” Admittedly, Hyungwon was begging to yell, not that he was aware of it, having his entire being on tunnel vision mode on the man in front of him. 

“You wanna know why I’m mad?” Wonho smirked. Holy fuck. Hyungwon wanted to both punch his smirk away and kiss his consequently bloody lips. 

“Oh, if your highness would like to tell me, then yes, please.” However, he merely rolled his eyes at Wonho.

The plates and silverware jumped slightly, as Wonho's own fists slammed against the table. 

“Guys, outside, now.” Before anyone could do anything, Hyungwon was tugging both guys by the collar and hem of their shirts, dragging them towards the emergency door.

  
  
  
  


“He started it.” Hyungwon pointed once outside.

The air of the evening was chilly, but not uncomfortably so. Summer was around the corner, and the weather had become inviting. The perfect contrast for such hostile situation.

“Wow, are we five now?” Wonho scoffed. 

“Five feet underground if you don’t shut up.” As Hyungwon stepped forward, Hyungwoo jumped between them. 

“Guys! Enough.” Hyunwoo repeated, this time pushing each boy on opposite directions. Hyungwon hit the furthest wall on his back, rejoicing in the sting against his omoplate. 

“I don’t know what the fuck is up with you two but this ends right now.” 

As Hyunwoo demanded, Hyungwon could see Wonho fighting the tight grip Hyunwoo had on his shirt. Stumbling sideways slightly and locking eyes with Hyungwon again for a split second before yelling.

“Oh shut up Hyunwoo, you act so high and mighty but guess what? You don’t know shit about this.” Wonho paced a little, almost like he wanted to walk away. Only to come back, breathing a little bit more stable but cheeks rosy pink.

Hyungwon wanted to melt into the brick wall.

Two years ago at this time, they were planning their trip to Paris. They were consulting the weather forecast, making the last arrangements for hotel and visiting tickets. Hyungwon was already imagining the amount of pictures he’d take while he kissed Wonho’s temple. 

Three years ago, this time, Hyungwon was holding Wonho’s hand as they eat a popsicle and went to see the sunset by the river. Wonho complaining about not having mosquito repellent and Hyungwon saying he would fight each creature that dared fly closer. Needless to say, he screamed and flew two steps back at the sight of a beetle. 

Five years ago this time, Hyungwon first stepped into Wonho’s world. Into his life.

Now he felt light years apart from him.

On the opposite wall of the alleyway, head resting against the wall, chest up and down two sizes bigger than Hyungwon remembered it. Wonho had his eyes closed, mouth open just a tiny bit. And Hyungwon felt like he was going insane. 

Not being able to touch him. Kiss him until their lungs hurt. Bite his lip and mark sin all over his exposed neck. 

That was torture. And Hyungwon was definitely fucking going insane.

“Wonho, I don-,” Hyungwon tried. 

“You shut your fucking mouth before I-,” Wonho pushed himself away from the wall, one swift motion and he had Hyunwoos arm on his chest. 

The night only settled deeper, and Wonho only came barging forward, shoving their friend against the emergency stairs. Hyunwoo tripped, ending up sitting on the first steps as Wonho got hold of Hyungwon’s collar.

So close. So close it wasn’t even intrusive. They’ve been closer, they could have been closer. Wonho still wore the same perfume, his hands were still calloused yet soft. Hyungwon hoped he still used that cherry blossom hand cream they bought as a set. 

Wonho was still Wonho.

Except, he wasn’t.

“Before you what, Hoseok?” Hyungwon whispered. Not a tinge of fear in his voice, even if his pupils were shaking, like hound dogs looking for the boy he loved with all his being. 

Pain settled half a second after his head hit the wall. Right on his skull, maybe not enough to make him bleed, but enough to make him see white. His vision impeded enough time to only see a fade of Wonho’s fist before he felt it.

“I’ll wipe that smile of your face.” 

Hyungwon could only hear Wonho. Hyunwoo was trying to separate them, basically holding Wonho’s middle and trying to pry him away from Hyungwon. To no goddamn avail. At what point had Wonho become stronger than Hyunwoo, Hyungwon would never be able to tell. Or maybe he was just powered by rage.

His hands were on Hyungwon’s collar again, keeping him up. 

Drowsy and tasting copper, Hyungwon leaned in. Hands finding Wonho’s abdomen, right under Hyunwoo’s strong arms. The merely rested there, noticing how the dress shirt was even softer and silkier than he’d expected. Almost see through.

Hyungwon only realised he was smiling until his tongue was deep in Wonho’s mouth. Only realised that hey, maybe summer wasn’t here and he was actually cold; when Wonho’s hands cupped his face, pulled him closer. See? Hyungwon knew they could be closer. 

Wonho was still Wonho in the way he kissed. In the way he arched his brows, almost begging, longing for more. Aching to touch, to receive. Hyungwon knew him even with his eyes shut closed and hair pulled. In the way Wonho pushed him against the wall and tried to make up for the height difference, in how a rumble unraveled when Hyungwon nibbled his lower lip and pulled. 

Wonho was still Wonho in how he let himself take, after so long, he let himself go. And Hyungwon could have never wanted him any other way.

  
  


Hyungwon’s new apartment had a different composition, obviously, but it was still jarring as Wonho toed his shoes off. A pause cut off shorter than expected when Hyungwon pulled him in again. And like a holy man at the feet of God, he opened his mouth, tongue darting out. Walking backwards as Hyungwon sucked on it, hands busy removing Wonho’s shirt. 

Attentive, Wonho noticed, of not getting it caught, not yanking the buttons away. Wonho watched with a funny face how Hyungwon hung it on the door knob, free hand stopping its movements on Wonho’s zipper.

“That was nice.”

“Shut up.”

If someone had asked, Wonho wouldn’t be able to reply with a good enough argument, or fundament. He wouldn’t be able to sustain how he ended up like this. Why he had agreed to jump on the cab with Hyungwon, why he had let him toy with his thigh on the way to his place.

Why he hadn’t said anything during the drive, why he hadn’t even looked at Hyungwon during that small pause between the frantic kissing and even more rapid touches. And why he wasn’t absolutely not bothered about any of it.

Actually, the question he wouldn’t be able to answer is why he was enjoying it so much.

The attention, for one. Hyungwon’s attention was a prized possession he had dearly missed. The touches, for Hyungwon had pristine hands that knew every single bump in the road, trained to know what routine and movement would have Wonho moan with only a hard around high around his throat, have him dip his head to suck on a finger. The kisses, each calculated in their spontaneity. The sounds, the taste.

Every fucking sense on edge.

His sixth one taking over. His sixth sense, the lover of perfection, obsessed with detail and who enjoyed the process. 

Of course it kicked in when Hyungwon was hovering over him on the bed, shirtless and pants undone. Pendants booping Wonho’s nose as Hyungwon reached for a pillow and placed it under Wonho’s head. 

Never in a thousand years would have Wonho expected to call something he dreaded so much a blessing, but it was. His jewelry maker sense making him appreciate each look on Hyungwon’s eyes like a new found geode. Rough and brown yet glistening with crystals on the inside, only if Wonho looked closer. Bowed lip smiling lopsidedly as their dicks touched through the fabric of their boxers. 

It made him lose sense of everything else, put his whole system in overload. 

“Not reaching your expectations you said?” Hyungwon said arching an eyebrow.

“Oh, fuck you.”

“You wish.” 

Oh no. No, no no no, this was not happening. Not on Wonho’s watch.

Before Hyungwon could get further away, even though he had separated barely an inch, Wonho wrapped his arms around him, making Hyungwon flop chest against chest. 

“Sorry, okay? I’m sorry, that was very mean and I am sorry.” Wonho apologized against his shoulder. 

The room had some memorabilia Wonho could recognize, peeking from behind Hyungwon’s shoulder, he could see the small blue robot. The framed Dalí replica and shelves filled with books. They all had stories behind it, Wonho was part of some. If they could all talk Wonho could go a year with a new bed time story every night.

Yet, they all fell silent.

“I’m sorry too.” Hyungwon whispered, like the walls were shushing him.

He nuzzled Wonho’s neck, pecking it softly for a couple of seconds. Then he pressed down again, same friction only now electric as Hyungwon bit down on Wonho’s neck. 

It was a friendly competition at the beginning, see who ended up with more hickeys. Hyungwon always won so, Wonho stopped trying to participate, only reaching out to do so when he came first and Hyungwon was using his oversensitivity to finish as well. However, there was no complaint from Wonho’s part as his body was severely marked. He’d wear those bruises with pride.

Then, however, Wonho wasn’t sure if pride would settle after that. Not when regret finds out, and it will, what happened.

  
  


Getting out of the flat was just as confusing as it had been entering it. This time with the added pressure of not having a guide, and being half naked. 

Now, Wonho wasn’t happy with what he was doing. He was actually participant on the idea of having breakfast and maybe go for a morning fuck. However, and that’s the big thing, he was at Hyungwon’s place. Again, Hyungwon. This was not supposed to happen, this was not supposed to be the way they would make up. 

Because they wouldn’t.

Wonho was not going to let Hyungwon hurt him again. And, right then and there, everything pointed that he would. 

So, it was easy to say Wonho panicked. 

He was panicking all the way back to his house, where a buzzing small aquarium was waiting for him. Without even taking off his shoes, Wonho went and fed his pets, apologizing softly for not giving them dinner last night.

Then he was rushing off to the bathroom, the door slamming shut before he could do anything about it. Not that he could have, either. Eyes glued on his reflection, hands clasped tight around the edge of the sink. Blotching spots of red and purple were completely visible around his neck, and terrifyingly so, down his torso.

The shirt was, indeed, more see through than expected.

Without realising it, he was looking down, breath labored as a couple of almost dry droplets fell to their demise. The drain swallowing them right up, making Wonho wish he could too, disappear. 

Traitor as it had always been, his brain started replaying the events of last night. His hands almost numb after so much strength use to hold himself up right, were shaking as he undressed. 

All over.

Scratches, marks, his ass cheeks and thighs with larger redness still slightly shaped as a handprint. 

Hyungwon had outdone himself. 

Perhaps out of routine, this was not the worst Wonho had ever looked after a night at Hyungwon’s place. Regardless, something told Wonho that Hyungwon had wanted to brand him, to remind him who he belonged to.

As if he needed to look like a used makeup wipe to know that.

  
  
  


Alligators have no force while opening their jaws, but can crush a man between them when they close. Hyungwon didn’t crush men, but he did butcher flimsy coffee shop plastic straws between his teeth. Which was not a good sign, or habit as a matter of fact. However, it did help him not clench his jaws, and consequently get a nasty headache.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Careful. Always so careful and attentive, Changkyun tilted his head, only doing it more and more each second he was left unanswered. 

It was cute. Hyungwon won’t deny that. So he shook his head, placed a hand on Changkyun’s face and pushed him away a little. Nothing aggressive, not in their little, unspoken friendship book.

“Are you going to be fine?” He asked once more, this time coming closer and bumping his arm against Hyungwon’s.

With a hissed exhale, Hyungwon wrapped said arm around his shoulders, eyes up to check the street light. Red. A hand blinking threateningly. 

“I think I will.” Hyungwon simply replied. 

He would, actually. Even if it was hard to think positively about the situation, he would. After going on and around every possible reason as to why Wonho had left without a word, Hyungwon thought his brain would leave it alone. But it didn’t. Why would his brain ever cooperate with its owner? 

Like a pompous, spoiled cat, his brain didn’t give in the petting and the silent please to let it go. To let the whole Wonho thing live, stop torturing it, stop drilling holes on it. But his brain still toyed around the idea that maybe, confrontation was too much at that point. That staying would have meant Wonho ending it. Completely.

And that was scary.

Because if anyone could count that as a possible reason, it would be Hyungwon.

It was fucking terrifying.

  
  


So, Hyungwon had it Wonho’s way. 

He went to work and pretended nothing happened. 

Hung around his friends, went to the cinema, shopping for the new season and out for dinner.

And pretended nothing was going on.

Opened the door to his apartment and kissed Wonho’s shirt away.

And still pretended he didn’t hate himself for it.

Now, he didn’t hate the whole sex thing. Sex with Wonho was amazing. Otherworldly. Spectacular. There had never been two lovers who were so synchronized and compatible in bed as these two were. Hyungwon was sure of it. He could bet his own head on it. 

What he couldn’t bear is to see how such a grateful relationship, that he had cultivated in a special golden platter for years, had developed into such a fatidic monster. Where they couldn’t stand each other outside the bedroom. Where Wonho would leave before the sun even begun rising. 

As much as wanted to, Hyungwon didn’t push it. Didn’t stop in his tracks while Wonho was deep throating him to ask what the fuck were they doing, and that they should talk about it. Because Hyungwon was a fucking moron, yes. But a horny moron. A moron that had missed Wonho so much he didn’t mind having him the way Wonho wanted. 

If sex that’s all that was going to be, Hyungwon would take it until it killed him.

Which it slowly was.

  
  


“They are hurting, Hyunwoo.” Minhyuk said pointing at nothing. Sometimes his arm did that: poke out, rise as if he could physically present his idea.

“Well, that’s their goddamn fault, Minhyuk.” 

The tone was rather deadpanned, which indicated that Hyunwoo was putting on a façade. He could fool an entire meeting room with dozens of people, he could fool anyone really. But not Minhyuk.

“Put yourself in their shoes.” Insisted the blond as he chased his boyfriend around the living room, sitting besides him on the couch. “Wouldn’t you hate to be like that with me?”

“For starters.” Hyunwoo said, after chugging one quarter of the beer bottle down. “I know how to communicate, thank you so much.” 

“And?” Minhyuk asked, after a long pause where his boyfriend finished yet another half of the bottle by himself.

“And I wouldn’t just break up with you because of distance.” Hyunwoo stated, shrugging and offering the rest of the bottle to Minhyuk.

His refusal came with him standing up and walking back towards the kitchen. “I just can’t believe you aren’t willing to help them.”

“And I can’t believe you don’t see that if you keep interfering, if they keep needing a third person to mend their relationship, then maybe they aren’t that good for each other after all.” Hyunwoo was now the one following his boyfriend, dropping the bottle on the counter and crossing his arms at a baffled Minhyuk.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I’m joking, babe?” It wasn’t condescending. No, Son Hyunwoo didn’t have a death wish. It was rather exhausted. “You had to see them on the alleyway. That didn’t look healthy to me.”

“Explain.” Demanded Minhyuk, leaning against the fridge expectantly. 

“Wonho punched Hyunwoo. He was bleeding.” Hyunwoo looked away when Minhyuk covered his mouth. “And the best part? They made out right after. Got into a cab before I could even register what the fuck just happened.”

“What the fuck?” If Hyunwoo hadn’t been paying attention, he would have missed how softly Minhyuk spoke. 

“And now they just fuck and don’t talk at all other than that, and I don’t know Minhyuk. I don’t think they should be seeing each other at all. Not right now.”

Minhyuk turned, his whole back against the fridge then. Blinking quickly, which put Hyunwoo on alert. Two steps and he was pulling his boyfriend in, hugging him tightly. Stupor stopped Minhyuk from crying, regardless he held on tight. Hyunwoo couldn’t even imagine how Minhyuk would have felt if he had actually, seen the scene. It was fucking awful to see two people one cares about the most in this kick ball of a planet, destroying each other like its a game.

Like it was fun.

But Hyunwoo was terrified to see who would get the last laugh.

“They just need to cut all and every interaction.” Hyunwoo said, trying to be comforting. “They need distance. Emotional distance. If they can do that, maybe in the future they will be okay again.”

“How the fuck could this happen?” Minhyuk asked parting from the hug, face rosy pink. “They loved each other so much.”

“That’s exactly why.” Hyunwoo sighed out, fanning Minhyuk’s bangs with his exhale and then brushing them softly. Properly. “Because they love each other so goddamn much.”

  
  
  


Rosemary. 

Hyungwon always smelled like rosemary. Freshly picked, still lingering in his clothes as if he had just come out of the field. Sometimes, Wonho could even imagine him with a hay woven hat and a matching basket where the stems and the petals would peek from. He could imagine Hyungwon with a sloppy smile on his face as he set them up on a vase, filled up just so and a neck tall just so. 

It was a sight easy to visualize when Wonho laid awake in the middle of the night. Veins still aflame from his orgasm, and that rosemary scent tickling his nose. 

Curled up like a cat in his deepest slumber, Hyungwon snored peacefully, a stupid lullaby Wonho grew fond off. Making nights without it too silent. 

He could fall asleep just like that: with the white noise, the rosemary and that little scenario with Hyungwon sitting next to him, woven hat discarded away, wrinkles around his eyes and grey hairs unabashedly shining in the morning sun. 

Wonho could fall asleep with the idea of future, peacefully rocking in his arms.

“Don’t leave.”

Flinching back at the sudden noise, Wonho shuffled under the sheets. If Hyungwon had been awake all this time Wonho would have been surprised, and understandably impressed.

“Go to sleep, dumbass.”

“Okay.” Hyungwon said, eyes never open but shifting behind his eyelids. “But, please don’t leave.”

“I have to.”

“No you don’t.”

No he didn’t.

Hyungwon was right. It was mid-July. Two months into this whole ordeal had to mean something after all. If it was just sex, an exclusive booty call of sorts, or whatever, it was going great. None of them had really explicitly requested to stop, or to see other people, or hey let’s at least be friends.

They didn’t hang out without at least two more people with them. They absolutely didn’t go on dates, and they, under no circumstance, stayed over until morning. 

Except they did. 

Starting late May.

  
  
  


“Wait, you are vegetarian?” Wonho asked incredulously, the waiter looking at the two rather nervously.

“I am trying to cut on my meat income.” Hyungwon swiftly ignored Wonho’s chuckle as he confirmed his order with the waitress.

“Oh boy, that was funny.” Wonho was calming down from his laughter, cheeks pink and perky as he looked around with those big eyes, that made Hyungwon’s head spin. “That is a pretty place, though. How did you find it?”

“College.” Hyungwon answered, hands squishing his cheek as he leaned on it. “Any updates from Hyunwoo?”

As the minutes tick by, it was becoming increasingly clear that their friends ditched them for some, cruel unknown motive. Hyungwon wasn’t going to complain or throw a tantrum. No, oh no au contraire, he was going to be the bigger person and handle this with maturity. This was merely an incident, a coincidence.

Not a date.

“If you feel uncomfortable, I could just leave.” Hyungwon suggested, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Stop with the fake modesty bullshit.” refused Wonho, elbows digging dimples on the table cloth. “You wanted to come here and I want that ramen bowl I just ordered.”

“You know there are other foods in the world, right?”

“You know I will not die until I taste every single ramen available, right?”

Hyungwon giggled, eyes turning into crescents, and perhaps if they had stood open he could have confirmed Wonho’s stance softening. However, it was gone before Hyungwon could ever witness its existence. Like a shooting star. 

That night the conversation was trivial. Nothing outrageous, something inside their comfort zone from back in the day. 

That night Wonho rode Hyungwon until his hips burned.

It was the beginning of June when they decided to go on a picnic. The entire group leaving for a speck of a moment, enough for Hyungwon to wipe something off of Wonho’s fringe. 

They talked about the changing weather, how different it was from The States, and how they used to dream about riding a boat on the river. 

“Because don’t you think it’s outrageous how we’ve never done it? Even though we were practically born here?”

“Speak for yourself, I’m from Gwangju.” Hyungwon knew he deserved being copied in a dumb voice. But the following tickle fight caught him by surprise.

That night Hyungwon hand his hand wrapped around Wonho’s neck, making him come for a second time. 

It was the end of June and Hyungwon missed the last train, and Wonho came to pick him up. 

They didn’t have sex that night, though. Hyungwon made him some lunch, Wonho asked if he could borrow the shower. They ate as they caught up on Daredevil, knocking out two episodes in. 

  
  
  
  


“Oh, but I do love proving you wrong.” Minhyuk winked at Hyunwoo from his bicycle, passing his water bottle to the other.

“You want me to say it?”

“Absolutely.” He even cupped his own ear, like the grinch. “Go on now.”

“You were right.” Hyunwoo gave up, throwing his little invisible white flag before rolling his eyes at Minhyuk’s very over the top celebration.

“Man, it does feel better than an orgasm.” He stopped his movements to turn to Hyunwoo, hand on the air like he was stopping the other’s anger. “No offense.”

“You literally cried last night.” Hyunwoo said smirking at his boyfriend. “None taken.”

Minhyuk tipped the water bottle in acknowledgment, unable to deny the fact that Hyunwoo was, indeed a God in every sense and in every surface.

“I just don’t know how…” Hyunwoo trailed off.

Minhyuk’s gaze followed Hyunwoo’s, settling on the other two boys. It was rather casual, rather what they were all used to. Hyungwon was fumbling with his protections while Wonho was talking, their conversation lost in the forgiving breeze of the afternoon. Minhyuk leaned his arms on the handles of his bike as Wonho turned to Hyungwon, now amidst a battle against the straps of his helmet.

After slapping his hands away, Wonho got it off his head, and laughed as Hyungwon’s long hair stuck everywhere. 

“They are like those little rain drops in the window, you know? They seemingly have different paths but end up uniting until they fall on the ground. They always end up falling back together, somehow.”

“Oh God.” Hyunwoo groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Wonho was right, you are the most pretentious literature major out there.”

Minhyuk’s screams and threats of throwing his boyfriend in the water made the other two boys turn, only running when Hyunwoo was holding a wailing Minhyuk bridal style. Hyunwoo counting down from three as he rocked Minhyuk back and forth.

That night they were so sore they only went for handjobs and a whole lot of deal of kisses. Wonho snoring into Hyungwon’s mouth mid make out. Very sexy indeed.

It was mid-July.

And Wonho stayed.

He stayed the morning after they made love. In the sweetest way they knew how, with arms embracing each other so tightly they might as well had become one. With words dying in their lips too busy kissing them away, with caresses that rose shuddering goosebumps, and trembling gasps. 

Wonho watched the sun rise against Hyungwon’s cheeks. 

“Hey.” Broken and raspy, Hyungwon stirred awake when the sun was now high in the morning. “That’s new.”

Wonho huffed, looking everywhere but the bed, after remind himself he had been staring for too long. “If you don’t like it, I could leave.”

A hand wrapped around his wrist, not forceful or with a powerful strength, rather it was soft and almost pleading. Hyungwon’s eyes shot open, blinking stubborn sleep away as he spoke. 

“Who said I don’t like it?” Hyungwon mumbled, sitting up yet not dropping his hold on Wonho. “I’ll fix something for breakfast.”

“Could we…” Started Wonho, remaining still as Hyungwon got ready to get up. “Could we stay here for a little bit longer?”

With a confused look, Hyungwon turned in his tracks, nodding as he laid down again, this time no sheets covering his body. Hesitating, he shuffled around until he was facing Wonho directly expecting him to talk.

Wonho didn’t.

Never the best at words in these situations, Hyungwon had worked him through most of it. Vulnerability wasn’t something Wonho was used to, something skipped during his childhood. Big boys don’t cry, big boys don’t face the consequences of their actions, big boys don’t apologize. Big boys are the peak of this society, shaped around them. Big boys are anything but humans.

The pillow huffed silently, even if he had been laying down for hours, Wonho felt comfortable, safe. Wrapped up in clouds and bubbles. 

Stepping outside of this safety meant talking about stuff, meant having a discussion he wasn’t ready for, nor wanted to take part in. The bed had been their no man’s land. They bickered the further they were of it. At least in the beginning. 

Closing his eyes, Wonho tried to remember when was the last time they actually argued, ever since Hyungwon came back. Like a real fight. Similar to almost busting Hyungwon’s lip open.

After the recount, it came down to twice. They fought twice: a very petty argument that started the same way as the first one, this time Wonho ended up against the wall. The second time there wasn’t much physical contact. Not at the beginning at least. Wonho remembered coming untouched that night.

“Hyungwon.” 

His eyes were still closed, the light outside the window tainting the darkness behind his eyelids, a weird kind of gold. 

“Yes?”

“Tell me you are just as confused as I am.” 

“I am.” Hyungwon sighed out, slight morning breath traveling through the pillow cases. “But I think we can figure it out.”

“You’ve always had too much hope in me.” Wonho’s voice could be seen as a thread. 

But Hyungwon had the beads ready, prepared to make a beautiful piece out of whatever was happening. 

“You stayed.” Hyungwon reminded him. “That to me is enough proof that all my faith is justified.”

“Are you quoting Grease?”

“What about it, stud?”

Finally Wonho dared to open his eyes. 

Regret was bitter. Like enjoying a nice meal and biting down on a small piece of cupboard. It was unpleasant, the taste never going away after spitting it out. Regret never settled in his heart, because the bastard was always too busy messing his brain up.

Regret filled most days than not those past months, before Hyungwon ever stepped back in the country. Yet, the bitter taste didn’t seem to settle for long after Hyungwon did come back, though. 

Because, after all, Wonho was gifted with moments like this. Between arguments, and sex, and bicycle rides and late night rides; he was presented with Hyungwon smiling down at him, adoration flowing out of him like he had been created from it. Eyes so impossibly beautiful, smile so beaming and he being oh-so-perfect. 

Sun behind him, the entire world waiting for him, yet choosing Wonho first.

It was only when the first tear put salt in his lips, that Wonho realised he was crying. 

“I love you, Hyungwon.” Long thumbs were wiping away his tears, as Wonho continued. “I don’t think I ever stopped for a fucking second.”

“Me too, I love you too Hoseok.” Giving up, Hyungwon hugged Wonho instead. Letting him soak his collarbone. “I missed you so much.”

“Please forgive me.” The questioning hum buzzed through Hyungwon’s rib cage, and tickled Wonho’s ear before finishing. “For being a complete asshole, for -- shit -- punching you, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself, though. But please, please I am so sorry Hyungwon, I love you so much.”

Cutting the rambling short, Hyungwon kissed him. Gross and tearful and vulnerable. Hyungwon kissed him until Wonho thought breathing was overrated, and that what a nuisance, he’d rather just die like this. Suffocated in kisses.

“Enough.” Hyungwon begged, cupping Wonho’s face. “Everything is okay, we’ll make it okay.”

Before Wonho could say anything else, Hyungwon was squishing his cheeks.

And it was the chuckling, no wait, the kisses littered all over his face; no it was the race to the kitchen, or maybe the breakfast on the couch. Or probably everything together -- and everything in between since May-- that made Wonho believe that, yeah, they would be okay.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hey everyone! thanks for reading this rollercoaster of a fic! i want to apologize for the tags, i really didn't know how to prepare you all for the fight scene without spoiling everything. this trope of getting back together was rather a challange for me, since it suddenly became too toxic. i really hope you people think i could save it last minute from becoming a very angsty, violent fic. 
> 
> anyway, i'm rambling. thank you again for reading! if you want to contact me im @lunitasdior on twitter!


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